


What's Easy to Come By Ain't No Treat

by james



Series: Cats and Witchers, Oh My [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M, Misuse of Mice, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Werecats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:34:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24515455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/james/pseuds/james
Summary: Winter comes, and that means Kaer Morhen.  In which Geralt's family likes his new pet cat.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Cats and Witchers, Oh My [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1771585
Comments: 54
Kudos: 802





	What's Easy to Come By Ain't No Treat

Geralt rode through the open gate to Kaer Morhen, a solid week later than he'd intended to arrive. Winter was well and truly here and the snow had made sleeping outdoors the last few nights distinctly unpleasant. For Geralt, at least; Jaskier hadn't seemed to mind, though he also wasn't saying anything at all, staying wrapped up inside Geralt's cloak.

Still, the late arrival meant that – from the sound of it – a good number of the others had already arrived. No way to know, of course, who might still be yet to arrive; though all remaining Witchers had a sort of standing invitation, it wasn't common for very many to find their way here for the winters. (Vesemir reserved the right to throw anyone out he wished, no matter the weather, and refuse to unlock the gate. So far no one had pissed him off that badly, but Geralt didn't doubt it was at least possible.)

He could see Lambert and Eskel on the grounds, and caught a quick glimpse of a black-clad figure leaping down from a wall, landing on what turned out to be Auckes' head. A scuffle broke out and Geralt turned Roach towards the stables. There were four other mounts in the corral, not counting the donkey Vesemir used to head down the trail for supplies.

Geralt quickly got Roach unsaddled and turned her loose, and grabbed his saddle bags and other gear, including all the extra baggage he had to carry.

“You could help, you know,” he grumbled.

There was no response, and Geralt headed out to greet the others. Lambert and Eskel had stopped – whether training or just messing around – when he walked up; Mordain was still trying to grind Auckes' face into the dirt and ignoring the beating his legs were taking as Auckes kicked him. Geralt watched them for a moment.

“They're not actually mad, are they?” It wasn't likely, but Mordain was grinding with quite an admirable amount of ferocity.

“Auckes lost a bet, then claimed he didn't have any coin or alcohol to pay up with,” Lambert said. 

“I don't!” Auckes yelled from the ground, then Mordain went flying. He landed on his back, then jumped to his feet, but didn't make a move towards Auckes.

“So I said you'd eat dirt,” Mordain said, and shrugged. “Ho, Geralt-- why is your shoulder moving?”

Jaskier finally poked his nose out from Geralt's cape, where he'd insisted he was staying for the entire winter. He didn't go far; Geralt could tell he was probably digging claws into Geralt's armor.

“You brought a cat?” Eskel's eyebrows climbed up his forehead.

“Hey, pussy, pussy,” Lambert said, reaching his hand out and rubbing his fingers together.

Geralt kept his mouth shut. 

“Hey, pussy? Pussy,” Lambert continued coaxing, and he walked closer. Jaskier sat still, then when Lambert was close enough, Jaskier leapt.

Right into Lambert's arms. Geralt stared as Jaskier rolled onto his back, letting Lambert cradle him, and just spread his legs out as Lambert rubbed his stomach.

“What's his name?” Eskel asked, looking like he wanted to pet the cat as well, but didn't trust Geralt to bring something genuinely adorable and harmless into the keep.

Geralt smiled. “Buttercup.”

“Oh, hey, you named him after that bard you have a crush on?” Auckes asked, leaning over Lambert's shoulder.

“I don't have a – what the fuck, Auckes.” It was true – he didn't and never did have a crush, and now they were sleeping together it was a perfectly normal...whatever it was. They slept together, they travelled together, Geralt fed Jaskier raw fish and carried him on his shoulder when Jaskier was feeling like he needed to be spoiled.

It obviously wasn't a crush _now._

“Do you think it'll let me pet him?” Auckes asked, his hand getting close to Jaskier's head.

Jaskier spun in Lambert's grip and leapt, running for the front door.

“You smell like Mordain,” Eskel told him. “Nobody wants to be near that.”

Geralt just went inside as Mordain leapt onto Eskel's back, and Eskel flipped him over his shoulder.

He headed for his rooms at the top of the tower, letting Jaskier figure out that he had no idea where Geralt was. If he got lost, well, sound echoed well enough Geralt could probably locate him once he started yelling for help. And if he wasn't lost, he could take care of himself.

Geralt dumped his gear – and Jaskier's, which he'd had to lug as well – onto the floor and set his weapons in their stands. Everything had to be cleaned, but tomorrow was soon enough for that. A voice in his head nagged him, because making sure his weapons were clean and sharp and ready to go was never something to leave for later. But Geralt was tired, and hungry, and if something attacked the keep in the next few hours, there were enough Witchers present that Geralt having a blade with mud on it was probably not going to make or break their defense.

For a long moment Geralt stood there, wondering if he'd just jinxed them, but decided he wanted food, first. He headed back down towards the kitchens to see what there was to be had.

He kept an ear out for Jaskier, but heard nothing unusual as he made his way down. He could smell something cooking as he got close, and his stomach growled. As he walked in, he saw a large pot over the fire, and a plate of fresh bread nearby.

Vesemir was crouching down, making kissy sounds and dangling a piece of cheese in the air.

Well, he knew were Jaskier was.

~ ~ ~

After a quick meal of bread and cheese, Geralt went upstairs and tended to his weapons. Cleaning and mending his clothes could wait – days or weeks, even, but right now what he wanted was a bath.

Filling the tub didn't take long, heating it even less time. Then he climbed in and let himself relax. 

He might have even dozed off.

When it was late enough that supper would be served soon, Geralt deigned to get out of the tub and get dressed. He still hadn't seen nor heard Jaskier, but he'd clearly found the kitchen, so he wasn't going to be getting lost any time soon. Especially if he'd charmed Vesemir like he had Lambert – though seriously, what the fuck was up with playing the sweet pet. Geralt had _told_ him about Lambert, and Eskel, and made sure he knew which was the reasonably not-an-asshole one, and which one _was._ Clearly Jaskier had decided to annoy Geralt by playing nice to the most asshole-ish Witcher in the clan.

When Geralt got to the small dining hall just off the kitchen, the others were already there. Eskel stepped forward and gave him a hug. “Been too long, Geralt,” he said, pressing his cheek against Geralt's. 

Geralt returned the embrace, just as tightly. He gave Eskel a good thump on the shoulder when they parted, then Geralt took a step towards the table. A small grey streak zipped up from nowhere, and Jaskier leapt onto the table, then up onto Geralt's shoulder – where he began to rub his chin all over Geralt's face.

The others all stared. Geralt just waited, because dislodging Jaskier would just make him howl, and use his claws to get right back where he wanted to be. 

Eskel narrowed his eyes. “Is he..scenting you?”

Jaskier was, indeed, rubbing his scent glands all over Geralt's face and neck. It wasn't uncommon, when Geralt was right out of a good, long bath for Jaskier to protest at Geralt smelling entirely unlike _him._

Lambert laughed. “Eskel, you got your stink all over the poor kitty's person! Now he's got to make him smell all proper again.”

Eskel flipped Lambert off, and Geralt took a step carefully towards a chair and even more carefully did not think about how Lambert might be right.

Jaskier lounged near Geralt's plate during supper, accepting offerings and stealing choice bits depending on whether he wanted to move or not. He laid with his tail just able to reach Eskel's plate, and every time he flipped his tail up and down, he got closer to leaving grey hairs in Eskel's food.

“I don't think he likes you,” Auckes said, at one point. 

“If he likes Lambert and Geralt, then the poor cat's probably just brain-damaged,” Mordain said. Jaskier stretched, taunting Geralt with a very fluffy, but absolutely not rubbable belly, and stood up. He walked very daintily across the table and peered down at Mordain's plate. Mordain scooted down a bit and Geralt watched him stare at Jaskier.

Geralt saw the moment Mordain's eyes went wide, and he looked up quickly at Geralt. Geralt didn't smile or nod, but he let Mordain see that yes, he knew perfectly well what 'Buttercup' was. Mordain grinned and reached out carefully, rubbing his hand down the length of Jaskier's spine.

“Such a gloriously beautiful cat,” Mordain said. “And clearly he has very fine taste.”

Jaskier chirped at him, and Mordain gave the others a smug look. Then Jaskier wended his way back across the table and sat down beside Vesemir's mug of ale, and did his very best to get his face into it.

Unfortunately, a small cat was no match for a Witcher who is very willing to drain his entire mug of ale to prevent said small cat from getting drunk. After supper, they sat around and told bullshit stories and played a few rounds of Gwent, all the while preventing poor Buttercup from getting any of the ale he tried to steal.

Geralt would have felt sorry for him, except it wasn't like he couldn't just switch back and ask for a mug. He was careful not to let Jaskier get into his own mug, despite the very adorable pleading look Jaskier gave him and the way he rubbed against Geralt's arm, purring, before trying to make a leap for his mug.

“No ale for cats,” Geralt told him, pushing his face away. One sip and he'd be drunk, two and he'd be puking all over Geralt's boots. He didn't say out loud that Jaskier could have as much as he liked if he changed, because clearly Jaskier was playing a game and he wasn't about to ruin Jaskier's fun at the expense of his brothers.

It was one of the reasons he'd invited Jaskier home for the winter, after all.

~ ~ ~

He went to sleep with a cat on his pillow; partway through the night Jaskier switched forms and stole the entire pillow, plus most of the blankets and furs. Geralt stole them back by simply pulling Jaskier on top of him, and sleeping under everything.

When he woke, early, Jaskier was gone and the door to Geralt's room was slightly ajar. He thought about staying in bed; Vesemir wasn't likely to start yelling at him for another two hours at least, if Geralt was willing to forego breakfast in favor of staying in bed. It sounded nice, after the last few weeks of rough road and rougher camping conditions. Winter had set in early and the hunting had been meager and the pay for monsters even worse.

Jaskier had switched forms a week ago, pointing out he could hunt better in that form and he needed less to eat. He switched back at night when there was room for them both in the bedroll, but several nights the chill and cramped conditions had convinced Jaskier to stay in cat form, curled up in a tight ball at Geralt's stomach.

Now, of course, he could do as he liked, and what Geralt liked was staying in bed where he had room to stretch out. A cold breakfast would be fine.

He was dozing when he heard the door open, and footsteps tip-toeing in carefully. Geralt opened his eyes and saw Jaskier, naked, carrying something in his hand and looking queasy.

Geralt sat up. “What's wrong?”

“Is this...normal?” He held up half of a mouse.

“It's a mouse?”

Jaskier flung it at him and it landed on the floor with a splat of blood. “It has two heads! Who knows what the other half was – I _ate_ it before I noticed it was.. was...” He waved a hand at the mouse-corpse where it had landed on the floor.

“It's a mouse,” Geralt said again, keeping his expression calm. 

“TWO HEADS!” Jaskier hissed, at the top of his lungs. No, Geralt corrected himself. Jaskier was a trained bard, this would be nowhere near the full range of his volume.

“It's a mouse,” Geralt repeated, sounding tired. “They...get into things, eat whatever they find. They mutated about two hundred years ago.” The boys had loved catching them, comparing the mouse mutations and taunting one another with getting the same. Before the Trials, when they'd been able to face their fear with silly, stupid jokes.

Jaskier was looking doubtful. “Am I going to...?” He made a very questionable gesture.

“Mutate? Probably not. If you feel yourself growing an extra head, let me know.”

“Geralt!” Jaskier did not look at all amused.

He rolled his eyes and pushed himself out of bed. “If you were in any sort of danger from eating that mouse, would I be sitting here teasing you about it?”

Jaskier relaxed, all at once, but then he frowned. His scent of fear had gone completely, though. “You might, if it were a temporary mutation or something.”

Geralt pretended to think about it, then nodded. “You're right. So if you do grow a second head, it won't be for long.”

Jaskier opened his mouth, then closed it, tilting his head thoughtfully. “I can make a fairly good come-on out of that, if you're interested?”

Not a difficult question – a warm, fresh breakfast in the kitchen or a cold, quick breakfast much later. Geralt motioned him over, and figured they could always skip breakfast entirely.

~ ~ ~

An hour or so later, Geralt was resting against the headboard while Jaskier sat at the end of the bed. Still naked, which became a fairly common occurrence once Geralt had found out what Jaskier was, and also once they'd begun sleeping together. Jaskier said he saw no reason to waste getting dressed if there was no actual _need._ Much as he loved his fine clothing, getting dressed and undressed was a hassle, and Geralt had quickly seen the benefits of encouraging him to go without whenever he wanted.

Right at the moment he was sitting with one leg bent on the bed, the other dangling off, as he sat plucking on his lute. He was muttering to himself in the way which meant he absolutely did not want to tell Geralt the lyrics yet. It was nice listening to him pluck at the strings, though, and hum under his breath.

Geralt heard footsteps outside his door, then it was flung open. Jaskier froze, arms clasping his lute like bandits had come to steal it.

Eskel had been clearly about to greet Geralt, ambushing him for staying in bed when there was work or sparring to be done. But he'd frozen at the sight of Jaskier.

“What--”

Jaskier switched instantly, and scrambled under the bed.

Eskel blinked. He looked at Geralt, accusation clear in his eyes, then he crouched down, crawling towards the bed, and peered under it.

A grey flash, and Jaskier was out, past him, then out the door.

“Good luck catching him now,” Geralt said. 

“Buttercup is a werecat,” Eskel said, still sitting on the floor, looking up at Geralt.

“Hmm.”

“Buttercup – Jaskier. Your bard. Is a werecat?”

“Looks like,” Geralt agreed.

Eskel sat there, clearly thinking something over. “We found some catnip in the greenhouse,” he said, slowly. “Lambert wants to make him some toys.”

Geralt grinned, and winked. “Well then, don't tell him.”

Eskel returned the grin. “How long before he figures it out, do you think?”

“Mordain knew last night at supper. You just found out; that leaves Auckes, Lambert and Vesemir.” He pulled his journal out from its bag, still sitting on the floor nearby. He checked it, though he knew what he'd written there. “I had Vesemir at the first week, Mordain first day – can't fool a Cat Witcher about a cat.” He frowned. “Had you down for three weeks, damn, I owe Jaskier a forfeit.”

Eskel hit him in the thigh, hard. Geralt kicked him back just as hard and watched as Eskel had to catch himself from falling backwards..

“Auckes at the first month and Lambert, last month sometime, assuming we're all here all winter.”

“If I help, do I win forfeits, too?”

Geralt looked at him, raised an eyebrow. “Generally a forfeit involves blowjobs. Or sometimes we--”

Eskel held up his hands. “What if I just help, because Lambert is an asshole who deserves it?”

“Deal.” Geralt held out his hand, and they shook on it.

Eskel took his hand back, then paused, and delicately sniffed his hand. “Why do I smell like-- fucking Hell, Geralt!”

Geralt laughed. Wasn't as though he'd had a chance to wash up after his hands had spent the morning making Jaskier whimper with delight.

Maybe it would teach Eskel about barging into the room.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] What's Easy to Come By Ain't No Treat](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27722507) by [Koschei_B](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Koschei_B/pseuds/Koschei_B)




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